The Black Road

If I were to direct a film of hell
I would set it in Aberdeen
close up of the junky sitting
on the bank of the river
below the bridge where
the water turns grey
widening by the lumber stacks
green banners of timber support
and the resistant turned away
logging mill gorged and erupting
white smoke that rides above
the taverns and the motels
Wishkah ghosts wandering North
away from the claw of Gray’s Harbor
Aberdeen roads coiled in the blood
and the lumber moving South
where we always face
every man for himself
with rules for himself
in a long bad dream
lingering in the homes below
the Hoquiam Mansion